


Hydrargyrum

by madlyhazel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlyhazel/pseuds/madlyhazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. with medical expertise who has been assigned to revive the recently deceased Pietro Maximoff. It seems like an impossible task, and even if he does come back, will he be the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resurrection

“Power at 42%, temperature at negative 321 degrees, no vital signs. Should we try to up the power output by three percent?” you ask, gazing down at the tablet in your hands. Various charts are stored off in the right-hand side, while a real-time chart subtly rises and falls in front of you. You flick it off to the side and bring up another one, taking note of how there seems to be no fluctuation in it. No decomposition, which means the cryopreservation seems to be working.

  
“No, we don’t want to accidentally short the systems like last week. That may have been 50%, but 45 still seems like too much,” states the young Asian woman next to you, who also stares at another tablet in her hands. The light coming from it sharpens her features and gives them a bluish tinge. “We don’t want his body decomposing if the cryopreservation fails. That means a whole new set of issues when we revive him.”

  
_If_ , you think, flicking away the chart once more. You step up to the Cradle, a device which the woman by your side, Helen Cho, had created. It had been reconfigured in order to support its new purpose, but it still wasn’t fulfilling what your team had hoped. The man inside still wasn’t breathing, and most likely a manner of time before he would officially be put in the ground. Regardless, the team continued to work diligently, hoping for the slim chance that they would see the blip of life on the monitor.

  
Shaking your head, you instead moved over to a man who lay down on a hospital bed, eyes closed and hands clasped over his stomach. Various wires covered his head, chest, and arms, all of them attached by electrode pads. The majority of them covered his head, leaving room for only his eyes, nose, and mouth. It was originally strange to see how the medical equipment contrasted against his red skin, but you’d quickly grown used to it.

  
“How’re you feeling?” you questioned, raising your tablet up over his body. Blue light descended down from a point on the top, beginning to scan his body. It went over three times, before a small beep signaled that the scan was over. A quick look told you that he was doing fine, considering all vital signs were normal. The man opened his eyes, the gold irises glancing at your face.

  
“Good,” he murmured, “How much longer would you like me here?”

  
“Mm, probably only about fifteen more minutes. I understand that this is a pretty big output for you at this rate,” you responded, tucking the tablet beneath your arm.

  
“It’s not terrible,” he offered a small shrug of his shoulders, “I don’t mind helping.”

  
You smiled lightly, watching as the stone that sat in the middle of his forehead shone for a few seconds, before slowly dulling down to a small glimmer. Vision had offered to help with the resurrection, which your team had been very glad for. Without his power, this whole project would have been impossible. You had also been certain that Vision would have given up a while ago, had Wanda not been pleading with him.

  
You coursed a hand back through your hair, closing your eyes for a few moments. You had been absolutely honored when you’d been asked to help with this project, but it seemed to be more and more unlikely to work as time passed. Pietro Maximoff had been dead for nearly over a month and a half now, and every minute that passed mocked the likelihood that he would ever live again. It wasn’t possible to resurrect a dead man—that sort of thing only happened in fairytales and myths. You lived in reality, and it was likely that this reality would be one without one Maximoff twin.

Fifteen minutes did eventually pass, and you moved to begin removing the electrodes off of Vision. You explained to him that it would probably be best if he returned within eight hours, and that he was free to do what he pleased as long as he didn’t put too much stress on his body. He may have held the power of an Infinity Stone, but he still had human functions. He was probably exhausted after the work that they had put him under.

The team began to clear up, and one of the older members volunteered to stay and watch for any fluctuations. Of course, not that any of you expected anything to happen, but it never hurt to keep track of the project. Helen offered to send down a replacement for the volunteer in four hours, and they agreed. With that, the team headed for the main elevator that would lead them to wherever they needed to be in Stark Tower.

You headed for the main floor, where members of the Avengers often gathered when they weren’t busy with either paperwork or missions. Wanda always asked for an update after each session, though you both knew that nothing had changed in the month that this project had been going. You gave her around two to three reports every day, and each one was the same—her brother was showing no signs of life. Regardless, you visited her, knowing that seeing you at least gave her a small semblance of comfort.

Wanda had begun to recover, but she was still in a very heavy state of depression. Tony Stark had found a psychiatrist for her after a recommendation from Dr. Banner, but she seemed to be extremely upset. She had explained to you that Pietro had been the only person there for her throughout their whole existence, as was she for him. No doubt losing him had taken a toll on both her mind and body. The skin around her eyes was dark and you were beginning to see more bone on her than you would have liked.

You exited the elevator as it reached the main floor, taking note of how only Clint Barton was on the floor. He sat on one of the couches, feet propped up on the coffee table as he tried to fix one of his arrows. It seemed to have split into three sections, and he was checking on the inside of one of the sections, most likely trying to figure out whether it would be worth it to repair it. They weren’t ordinary, after all, so fixing them was a bit of a hassle.

“Afternoon,” you greeted, waiting for him to raise his head to you before continuing on, “Have you seen Wanda?”

Clint gave a small shrug, turning his attention back down to his arrow. “Scarlet’s probably in her room. If not, track down Vision.” He gave a small chuckle to himself.

You gave a nod and headed for the spiraling stairs. She had begun living at the Tower as soon as the group had arrived back in the states, considering she had nowhere else to go. Tony had plenty of extra rooms in the building, and she had taken one on the upper floors. It was only a small trip to arrive to her door, and you gave a quick succession of three knocks.

“Come in.” The accent was heavy and mumbled as it came through the wood, but you understood her well enough.

The handle twisted easily under your grip and you stepped inside, softly closing the door behind you. Wanda sat on the edge of her bed, red tendrils coming from her hands as she flipped around a clock in her hands. The tendrils guided the clock back down to its spot on top of the dresser, and she turned to you. She looked especially tired today, and you offered her a sympathetic look.

“Have you eaten today?”

She shrugged. “Food hasn’t sounded too great.”

You sighed softly and began walking toward her, sitting down next to her. “You need to make sure you eat. You’re just stressing me out, and that isn’t going to help your brother.”

She didn’t respond, and instead her hands began picking at the fabric of her pants. She was clearly not ready to go any further into the subject, so you decided to continue on with what you had originally came here for. “No change yet. We might try to up the power output a little bit within the week, but I have no guarantees.”

Wanda offered a small bob of her head to show that she understood, but she didn’t speak. You moved to place a hand on her shoulder, and she tensed under your touch. You began rubbing your hand in small circles. “Have you at least tried talking to Mrs. Weise? She’s really trying to help you.”

Wanda’s grip tightened on her pants, and her lips thinned in irritation. “She doesn’t understand.”

“She can’t unless you actually tell her how you’re feeling.”

She turned her head away from you, and you allowed your hand to slip from her shoulder. It seemed that she really wasn’t making any progress. This was yet another reason that you continued to work on reviving Pietro, considering that Wanda wouldn’t get any better unless he did come back. She might pull out of her depression eventually, but she will still have changed without her brother. It was necessary that you did everything you could to bring him back, even if it was just for her.

You gave a small click of your tongue and stood, knee slightly cracking as you did. You’d been on your feet constantly, and it was really starting to take a toll on your legs. Perhaps you needed to take a rest period. You walked out of the room, taking one last look at the young woman behind you before shutting the door and heading for the stairs once more.

You would spend the rest of the day doing miniscule things, one of them being preparing a small meal that consisted of a BLT and a side of green beans for Wanda. You had set this in front of her door and notified her of it, though you didn’t expect her to eat it. Tony had notified everyone in the building that he was having a little party tonight in order to “get rid of this damn depressing atmosphere.” You decided it wouldn’t be half bad to try and attend something a little fun in order to raise your spirits, so after another 45 minute long session on the project, you went to your apartment and you got ready.

Stark always preferred to through fancier parties, and thus you’d decided to dress up in a maroon column dress. There was a short split up the left side, just to about where it came to mid thigh. The top was halter-like, and the dip came down to the top of your cleavage. You had forgone heels for the night, not wanting to put further stress on your feet, and instead wore a nice pair of black flats. Extra makeup had seemed like too much of an effort, so you stayed with what you had already for the day, and only did your hair just enough to make it look a little more elegant.

You drove back to the Tower and took not of how the upper floors were already lit up. He never seemed to delay, did he? You had a valet park your car and you headed on in, taking the elevator up. The deep bass of a song had already begun to shake the elevator long before you even reached the floor, and by the time you did, you felt as if your bones were vibrating inside of your body. It was already evident that tonight would wear you out, but you perhaps a little more than glad for that. Perhaps that meant that you’d get a little bit of rest.

You quickly found two other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that you’d become friends with in your time of being part of the organization, and after picking up a glass of rum and coke you joined up with them. One of the girls, who wore her hair rather short and was dressed in a simpler cocktail dress wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“Good to see you!” she exclaimed over the booming music, offering you a beaming smile. “We never even get to see you anymore now that you’re working over here.”

The other woman who sported shoulder length black hair and was a deal shorter than both of you gave a nod. “Anna and I are stuck with Agent Berkley now, and we don’t have you to deal with him. Can I tell you how much of a pain he is? He’s forgotten his pager three times in the past two weeks. It’s a wonder how he’s an agent, sometimes.”

Both Anna and you laughed, and your trio began to wander about the floor, greeting various other people along the way. Grace, the black-haired girl, continued to talk about various happenings, while Anna chimed in with her own ridiculous comments every now and again. You could feel your body relaxing from both the conversation and the alcohol, and you were pleased to have a break from all the stress.

Anna had been stolen off by some fellow with a sharp jaw, and thus you and Grace sat down on one of the couches. She sprawled her legs across your own, nearly spilling her drink (which looked to be probably _too_ strong for her) as she tilted her body back into the couch. You offered to take off her heels for the moment, and she gladly obliged, stating that they’d been killing her for the past hour and a half. You chuckled, leaning over her to set your glass on the ground.

“How’s that whole Jesus project going, anyways?” she inquired, words slightly slurred. You sighed, allowing your head to tip over the back of the couch.

“We’ve been at it for a month, and there’s been nothing. I’m beginning to think we should just bite the bullet and put the whole thing away.”

“Doesn’t seem like you,” Grace mumbled, suddenly serious for a moment, “You really gonna give up on the possibility of bringing someone back from the dead? That’s pretty big medical stuff. If it’s even slightly possible, I’d keep going at it.”

You gave a groan, dragging a hand down your forehead and pinching your nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just hard. Only reason I haven’t really given up is because of Wanda.”

“The guy’s sister, right?” You gave a nod. “Yeah, I couldn’t imagine losing either of my brothers. I think having him back would be good, huh?”

You shrugged, signaling that you really _didn’t_ know whether it would be better or not. Regardless, you would continue persevering. The two of you continued to talk about other things, deciding that talking about the project would just stress you out. Grace talked about how she had met up with a new guy, and that he was pretty nice. You gave a cheeky remark about how she’d probably have him used up within a few weeks, and she lightly kicked you in the stomach.

It seemed your time to relax would be quickly cut off, because Helen Cho was soon in front of the two of you. She was dressed in a black dress that flowed all the way to the ground, and she crossed her arms as she stopped in front of you.

“I can see you’re enjoying yourself,” she remarked, the corner of her lip quirking up.

You dumbly looked at her, simply waiting for her to reprimand you. Instead, her features seemed to soften and she offered a hand to you. You pushed Grace’s legs off of your lap and accepted her hand, letting her pull you up.

“I know it’s a party and everything,” she began, allowing you to lean on her shoulder as the blood began to flow back into your numb legs, “But I need you to go check on the project. I just learned that no one has been down there for three hours, and you’re the only one who’s not drunk.” After a moment, she corrected herself, “Not as drunk.”

“Only two glasses,” you stated, jiggling your leg as the last of the needles began to disappear, “I can do it. Just let me see if someone can find me a change of clothes.”

Helen nodded and headed away, and you wondered briefly why she couldn’t have taken over the watch. Then again, she was the leader of this whole project, and she probably deserved relaxation more than you did. You turned back to Grace, who blinked at you slowly.

“I didn’t even get to ask you about your personal life,” she chuckled, slowly moving up into a sitting position.

“I know, maybe some other time. You happen to have a change of clothes on you.”

“I’m always more prepared than you. I left it in my car, so just go get them. I’ll stay here—maybe try and find which closet Anna snuck that guy into.”

You gave a giggle before waving her goodbye. You headed down to the garages via elevator, and you asked one of the valets to bring you Grace’s car. You grabbed the clothes out of the passenger seat as it was brought around, and you spent the rest of your time finding an unoccupied bathroom stall and changing. You splashed a bit of cold water on your face from the sink in order to wake you up a bit, and you headed down to the labs.

Using your fingerprint to enter the room where Pietro Maximoff was being held, you stepped inside and left the plastic bag with your dress on one of the tables. The lights had been left on for some odd reason, but it was of no real concern to you. The last person in here had probably forgotten to turn them off. You picked up a tablet and quickly scanned through the charts, keeping an eye out for any abnormalities. Noticing none, you plopped down into a chair and stretched out, crossing your hands in your lap.

“Sometimes you cause me more trouble that I think you’re worth,” you remarked to the man inside the Cradle, “But it’s just fine.”

You played on your phone a little bit and checked the charts every now and again, but it wasn’t long before you found your eyes beginning to droop. A little nap wouldn’t be bad of course, considering it was fairly late. Nothing was changing, after all, and therefore keeping watch wasn’t entirely necessary. You allowed your eyes to slip shut, and it didn’t take long for you to drift off.

* * *

 

You suddenly woke up to blaring alarms, and you shot up in your chair. Your head whipped around, and your eyes landed on the flashing red monitor about the Cradle. It said across the screen ‘CRYOPRESERVATION DISABLING’ and you quickly grabbed the nearest tablet in order to reverse whatever the hell was going on.

However, there was no way to turn it back on. What methods had normally been present before were completely gone, and you felt the real panic begin to set in. You flipped frantically through the screens, trying to find something that could help you. Your fingers only paused for a seconds when your eyes stopped on the vitals screen. What normally had been completely devoid of any action was now full of blips and waves and numbers. The oxygen monitor displayed 98%, the heart monitor showed a heartbeat of 48 beats per minute, and it was gradually picking up to be faster and faster. Blood pressure seemed a little high at 136/84, signaling stress, and you could feel your own rising as well.

Life signs. There were life signs. You threw the tablet to the side and ran over to the Cradle, gazing up at the screen once more. It had been designed to cease cryopreservation at the first sign of life in order to not damage the body with the cold, and the temperature inside the Cradle was rising rapidly. Your fingers searched for some sort of opening to the machine, some sort of handle, but nothing was to be found. You scrabbled along the whole thing, trying to figure out just what you should do. You had never expected this to work, and you had no one to help you.

You whipped your phone out of your back pocket, dialing Helen’s number and pressing the phone harshly to your ear. It rang and rang, and it cut to her voicemail. You tried her several more times, but she never picked up. You tried a few other members of the team as well, but none of them picked up. No doubt they were at that damn party, and here she was stuck with a many coming back from the dead. Why was this suddenly working? What had happened while you had been asleep?

You paced around in panic, running hands through your hair and biting at your nails. You couldn’t do anything, and you felt absolutely useless. A click from the Cradle halted all of your movement, and the lid slowly began to swing open, and white smoke began to pool out from it. You heard ragged gasping coming from the inside of the machine, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

A pale hand came up over the side, trying to find a hold. A second one came up as well, and arms followed after the both of them. Tufts of white hair came up over the edge, and you were soon met face to face with piercing blue eyes. The man they were attached to had his mouth wide open as he breathed heavily, staring directly at you with a look you couldn’t quite define.

Suddenly, he spoke.

“ _Unde sunt eu?_ ”[1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Where am I?
> 
> I hope that Romanian is accurate. It better be.
> 
> Thanks for checking out this work, considering it's my first one on this site!
> 
> Mixes listened to while writing this (all on 8tracks):  
> Walk it off. by BreadandButterfly  
> No Longer 12 Minutes Older by Fiona-Mona  
> he's fast-a pietro maxmimoff fanmix by eraised


	2. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro's alive, but something is definitely amiss. Not only is he unwilling to help you in any way, shape, or form, but he's facing a whole new problem on its own.

The two of you continued to stare at each other for some time, only breaking eye contact when he attempted to climb out of the machine. He gracelessly fell to the floor, hitting it with a small cry. This seemed enough to snap you out of your trance, and you quickly began stepping toward him.

“Pietro Maximoff,” you began, stating his name slowly, “I’m Agent (L/N). I know this whole thing probably seems like a huge surprise, but I’m glad to see you’re well. Here,” you offered your hand, “Let me help y-“

Your voice was cut off as he shoved away your hand. “ _Obține departe!_ ”[1] he exclaimed, moving to scramble away from you. He was obviously weak, because he was unable to rise to his feet despite his many attempts. Instead, he settled for crawling away on his stomach, hiding beneath one of the metal tables. He shifted to where he was bracing himself on one arm, legs curled up beneath him as he continued to stare at you.

You crouched down, looking at him in confusion. Why was he so hostile? “I need you to speak in English, Pietro,” you softly coaxed, “I can’t understand you. You can understand me, right?”

He only continued to stare at you, breaths coming out in gasps. He was also lightly shivering, and you decided that you needed some way of calming him down. You slowly began to stand, carefully watching him as he tensed up. You held up your hands to him, trying to get the point across that you meant no harm. “I’m going to find you a blanket, alright?”

You began to step backward slowly, putting your hand behind you to ensure that you didn’t bump into anything. You began to wander around the room, opening drawers in an attempt to find _something_ that could warm this poor man up. Unable to find an actual blanket, you settled on a discarded lab coat inside of one of the drawers. You turned around and opened your mouth to speak, but you were greeted with the face of Pietro.

He seemed to have found his legs, and he had also seemed to have found a syringe. He kept a distance between the two of you with it, holding it out like a dagger. Your throat bobbed as you gulped nervously, and you offered the coat toward him. “I’m just trying to help. I found this for you, so please put it around you so you-“

“Stop.” There was English, but he seemed to be uncomfortable with it, as if it left a bitter taste on his tongue. He seemed to offer no sort of compromise, and instead let the syringe loom toward you. “ _Unde sunt eu? Spune-mi._ ” [2]

This was extremely frustrating, considering he _clearly_ knew English, yet he was speaking in a language she didn’t know. While you hadn’t known him personally prior to his revival, Wanda spoke enough of him that you knew he wasn’t normally so hostile. Then again, you supposed that any person who was in this situation might be a bit wary. You just wished he’d put the _goddamn syringe down before-_

Pietro pushed his makeshift weapon toward you once more, and you gave up. If he wasn’t going to cooperate, you needed to utilize other methods. Your hand quickly shot out, latching onto his wrist and twisting it to the side; not enough to hurt, but enough to give his nerves a start. He seemed to be very surprised, and his hand automatically opened, dropping the syringe to the ground. It clattered across the tiled floors. You attempted to shove him away at the extension of both of your arms, but he wasn’t having any of that.

You quickly (very quickly) found yourself against the wall, your head smacking into it and leaving a sharp pain in the back of your skull. A look crossed Pietro’s face for a moment, but he quickly washed it away and pressed his forearm to your neck. You gave a huff as he squeezed down, breath being shot out of your lungs. For the love of God.

His eyes narrowed, and you could feel his breath hot on your face. Your hands twisted up to grip his arm, but his tendons flexed and you were unable to move him. For being a man who had been stuck in a freezer for the past month, he was fairly strong. You groaned, digging your nails into his arm in order to hold some sort of ground for yourself.

“Where am I?” he ground out. You continued to push at him, attempting to press a foot in his knee. He merely stepped back, taking his leg out of reach and pressing into you further.

“Stark Tower,” you gasped, the words stinging against your throat, “Lower labs. I swear I’m just trying to help-“

He gave a harsh laugh, “Help? _Tu ma prins_. _Ajutor mic._ ” [3]

“I’m the one who brought you from the dead!”

He blinked and his hold slackened for a moment. It was just long enough of a moment for you to shove him off of you, and he blindly stumbled back. He soon tripped over his own feet and fell down, grimacing as his tailbone hit the floor. You picked up the discarded coat and threw it in his direction, perhaps a bit harder than needed.

“No one keep somebody in deadly cold temperatures in order to save them for the hell of it. You died, and now we’re just trying to help. You’re being difficult.”

He held the coat loosely in his hands, and he simply watched you for a long time. Silence was shared between the two of you for a long time to a point where it was uncomfortable. Finally, he broke it with a barking laugh.

“You could try to lie a little better, yeah?”

You glared down at him. “Scars tell the truth. When you get the change, check them out. Though really, I’m starting to get the idea that it would be better just to put you back where you came from.”

He slowly stood up from his spot on the floor, watching you carefully. It was obvious that he was trying to process what you were saying, trying to determine whether or not you were actually telling the truth. He pulled the coat around his thin form, seeming to briefly sink into it as it began to fight against the chill. He finally offered a heavy sigh.

“And if I do believe you, why would you… Bring me back?”

This question caused you to pause, and you allowed your gaze to drop to the ground. Why were you bringing him back? You hadn’t even thought to ever ask the question. The Avengers clearly did well enough on their own, and it wasn’t as if they needed another superhero to worry about. Especially one that was so quick that they couldn’t keep track of him. There was no situation that deemed it well enough for him to be brought back.

“For your sister,” you settled on, deciding it was the safest route. Perhaps that was why your team had been working, considering that Wanda had been practically losing her mind. Perhaps the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted Pietro back in order to keep his sister calm. It wasn’t beyond them to revive him in order to just control Wanda.

He gave you a perturbed look, and his movements seemed to briefly halt.

“I have a sister?”

Now it was your turn to stare at him, wondering what kind of question that was. _Of course_ he had a sister, the two of them had been with one another for their whole existence. You gave a slow nod.

“Yes. Wanda, she’s your sister. You’re twins, Pietro. I think you know this.”

His gaze averted to the side, and he began to bite his lower lip. He seemed very confused, and it was beginning to make you nervous. Why was he suddenly not recalling that he had a twin?

“Pietro,” he murmured, seeming to test the word against his tongue.

You offered a small shake of your head. “No, Wanda. That’s your sister-“

“No,” he stated, “Pietro. Who’s that?”

You felt the room drop into an eerie silence, and you watched his movements and expressions carefully. He brought his attention back to your face, obviously waiting for some kind of answer. He didn’t remember his own name. He had no idea who he even was. You dryly gulped, shifting on your feet as you tried to figure out some way to explain to him that that was him.

“It’s,” you began, but quickly trailed off. How were you supposed to tell someone their own name? You sucked in a deep breath and continued on, “That’s your name. Your name is Pietro Maximoff.”

He watched you for a long time, the gears in his brain turning. It was evident that he was just as confused as you were, if not more. He hissed through his teeth and stumbled for the nearest chair, trying to pull it out as fast as he could before he collapsed into it. He was stressed, that much you could tell. How was someone supposed to feel after they realized that they couldn’t remember a single thing about themselves or the place around them?

He ran a hand back through his white hair, further upsetting the already messy locks. He opposing hand clenched and unclenched in his lap, and your brows furrowed in concern. You weren’t exactly the expert in helping amnesiacs, so you stood off to the side, completely dumbfounded by the whole situation. You began to pick at your cuticles, shifting to and fro on your feet.

“And what else?” he questioned, raising his blue eyes to yours. His face seemed sad, the features having been dragged down. “What else don’t I know?”

You rubbed the back of your head for a moment, but quickly pulled your hand away as you brought up the sting. You stepped over to him carefully, and when he didn’t make any move to lash out at you, you brought up another chair. You sat down in front of him, clasping your hands together and analyzing his features. His eyes simply searched your face, looking for any answer that he could find without you speaking.

You breathed out heavily, leaning back in your chair. You didn’t exactly know much about him, considering your task had been to revive him, not have a history lesson about his life story. You supposed you knew enough to at least give him some sense of humanity, so you decided to go with that.

“You and your twin sister are from a little country called Transia, I think. Neither of you know your real parents, and your foster ones were killed when you were young.” She left out the fact about exactly who had been responsible for their deaths. “You’re both unusual, I guess. You’re… Fast, is the easiest way to put it. I guess you found that out well enough earlier.” He offered a small nod.

“Your sister is essentially able to use a sort of magic. Move , make, and destroy things, as far as I know. You both helped out a lot recently, helped a team of people somewhat like you called the Avengers. I don’t know much of the details, but you ended up dying. We used that,” you motioned over to the Cradle, “To bring you back.”

You allowed him to process everything, and you sat in silence for quite some time. It was evident that he was extremely overwhelmed with this new information, so you assumed that it was best to give him some time. Minutes passed by, and the room was filled no more than with the sound of the two of your breathing, and Pietro’s soft sighs every now and again.

“What about you?” he asked, voice so soft that you barely heard him.

“Pardon?”

“What about you?” he repeated, blue eyes scanning your features, “Who are you?”

After a few moments, you offered a small shrug. There wasn’t much to be said of you, and it wouldn’t be of much use to him in the end. Regardless, you decided to humor him for a little bit. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), and I’m an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. That’s essentially an organization that works to protect this country, especially against the odder things.” You took a glance at Pietro, and he simply settled for watching you, waiting for you to continue on.

“I was assigned to help bring you back, since I at least know my way around medical tools and terminology. To be perfectly honest, I never expected it to work, so we’re both surprised here.”

He gave a short nod, reaching up a hand to play with the ends of his hair. While he seemed to think, you took the time to look him over. He wore a thin suit that covered his whole body, and it was a dark blue color. No designs were noticeable on it, and you remember that the team had placed it on him for coverage, but only enough to where it wouldn’t inhibit any processes. It had also helped the skin grafts that Dr. Cho had placed on him settle in and not be damaged by the frigid temperatures.

The hair on his face and head hadn’t grown due to the fact that he simply hadn’t been alive, and that the temperatures he’d been placed under didn’t allow that. He was a little paler than he should have been, and his cheeks were flushed as his body tried to warm itself up. The tips of his fingers were a light purple, and they seemed to move slowly as they twisted in his hair. What was the most striking to you were his eyes. They were a startling color of blue, and they were the only real object that made him seem human as of now.

You were brought out of your musings by the sounds of rapid footsteps down the hall, and you saw Pietro tense up. His head whipped toward the door and he gripped the back of his chair, bracing himself to get up. It didn’t take long for a large group of people to reach the door, and a quick verification allowed them into the room. They were dressed up, having come straight down from the party, and Helen Cho stood at the head of them.

You recognized several of your team members, as well as Dr. Bruce Banner lingering around the back. Helen strode up to the two of you, and Pietro quickly jumped to his feet, uncomfortable with the suddenly overwhelming situation. You rose to your feet as well, but had no words.

Helen simply stared at Pietro, as many of the other people in the room did as well. He shifted uncomfortably under their stares, his eyes flicking quickly between them. Helen shook her head, turning to look at you.

“What the hell did you do?”

You rose up your hands in defense. “Something happened on its own. I was sitting here, and suddenly the systems went crazy. Now you have him here. I promise that I didn’t do anything that would have made this happen.”

She gave you a long stare, and you felt yourself shrink. She may have been of average height, but you felt significantly smaller around her when she gave you these sorts of looks. She switched her attention back to Pietro, and you took note that Bruce had stepped over as well. He muttered something under his breath while his eyes were wide in wonder.

Helen stepped toward Pietro, and he shrunk back from her, using the chair to put some distance between them. His arms were pulled up in front of him, preparing to strike should the time come along. He was stressing out, and you quickly attempted to intervene.

“He doesn’t know you,” you blurted out, and you briefly chastised yourself. You could’ve had it come across at least a little more intelligent. “Something happened while he was in there, and it messed with his memories.”

Helen seemed to pause before she retracted away from Pietro. He was still very tense, but his facial features seemed to slightly relax as distance was put between them. Instead, she quickly latched her hand around your forearm and brought you off to the side. She pulled you to stand in front of her, and your shoulders slightly hunched as you tried to find some way to escape her stare.

“You mean he doesn’t remember a _single_ thing?” she demanded, her voice a harsh whisper. You didn’t understand why she had to keep her voice down—everyone deserved to know what was going on.

“That’s what I said,” you murmured back, “I told him what I could about himself, but he’s still pretty wary. He attacked me as soon as he got out of the Cradle. I don’t think it’s wise to bombard him.”

Helen groaned, pulling up a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose. You both knew that this made things a lot harder for everyone. Not only did you have to help him recuperate after being sedentary for a month, but now you had to reintroduce him back to everything. It wasn’t exactly a job that either of you were excited for. Your attentions were quickly turned to a yell from Pietro, who was reprimanding Bruce about something or other in his native tongue. Bruce merely stepped back from him, trying to explain that he was just trying to make sure that he was alright.

Helen shook her head once more, looking to you. “You’re the only one who he’s had a real chance to even interact with, correct?” You nodded. “Then I’m keeping you with him until I can figure something else out.”

You cried out, none too pleased with this situation. “I’m not playing babysitter! Send him back to Wanda or something-“

“ _Absolutely not_ ,” Helen hissed, causing your mouth to clamp shut, “That would just cause a whole new world of issues if we had the two of them together right now. Like you said, he’s forgotten everything, and therefore he doesn’t know her. It’ll just put his body under more stress than he needs, and it may cause her to break down further. _You’re_ sticking with him, understood?”

You grumbled a small affirmative, and Helen briskly moved back over to Pietro. He looked at her wildly, and he was looking more and more like a cornered animal by the second. She cleared her throat, and everyone in the room stood to attention. She directed her words toward Pietro.

“Agent (L/N) will be keeping an eye on you for now, until we can figure out your situation. You’ll both be provided rooms adjacent to each other, and she’ll be making sure you get what you need. Provided, this is only temporary, but it’s necessary as of now. Are we clear?”

Pietro stared at her for several seconds before giving a sharp snort.

“That’s fucking cabbage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Get away!  
> [2] Where am I? Tell me.  
> [3] You caught me. Hardly helpful.
> 
> Note: Romanians use the term cabbage to describe anything that's stupid, unfair, or frustrating. Kind of like how we use messed up or bullshit.
> 
> How do you guys like Pietro's characterization so far? Is there anything I should change? And again, thank you for reading!
> 
> Mixes listened to while writing this (all on 8tracks):  
> broken brakes by kittan  
> maximoffs. by apriltargaryen  
> ☾ sarcastic speed-demon ☽ by shsl.cosplayer  
> band aids don't fix bullet holes by notacorv


	3. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to help Pietro remember things about himself in the time that you're stuck with him. Whether it's for better or worse, neither of you question it.

“Again, sorry for the inconvenience, Grace. I think everything that I told you to get should be enough, however… Yes, yes, it’ll be fine… Alright, bye then.”

You ended the call and placed your phone back in your pocket. You have asked poor Grace to help get you some clothes and hygienic necessities for your time spent at the Tower, and she had humbly agreed. Of course you felt bad, considering you were still wearing the clothes that _she_ had offered you. Regardless, Dr. Cho didn’t want you leaving Stark Tower at all, even to get necessary things. She explicitly stated that you were to stay with Pietro at all times and ensure that he didn’t get in any trouble, as well as monitor his vitals.

You turned around, giving a glance at said man. He was currently seething on the edge of the bed, none too happy with his current situation. You supposed you wouldn’t be either—after all, he was completely bound to this room for a few days, and after those days he’d been instructed to have you by his side when he explored. He’d already tried to escape before you even had him in this room, using his superspeed (unfairly) to his advantage. Security guards had managed to corner him and drag him, more kicking and less screaming, to this room.

You offered a heavy sigh, and his eyes flicked toward you. He gave one back, either to show understanding or to mock you. You suspected the latter. You waved your hand at him.

“You’d probably find this whole thing much more enjoyable if you stopped pouting,” you explained.

He gave a sharp snort. “Have you ever lost all of your memories?”

Your face tightened and the corners of your mouth curved down. That was right—he didn’t remember anything. His eyes slowly drifted away from you and down to the sheets, and his hand began to pick at them. His leg was bouncing anxiously, and his free arm was wrapped rightly around his torso. He wasn’t exactly angry anymore, but rather upset.

You began to wander around the room, trying to find something to occupy you. You wanted to at least stay with him until he settled down, and then you’d lock him in here and try to see if Grace had arrived. There wasn’t much around that you could find for entertainment. The room was occupied with a single, albeit large king size bed, a dresser, a nightstand, along with a few bits of decorations such as ceramics or paintings. Everything was gray in theme, with all wood being a light oak color. You shuffled around for a while, picking through the dresser and the nightstand.

You came up with a pen and a pad of note paper from the nightstand, and an idea quickly came to your head. You walked over to Pietro and sat down, and you could feel him tense up. You offered the objects toward him, though he made no motion to grab them.

“I want you to draw yourself,” you explained, shoving the items more toward him, “Maybe we can help you try to remember some things.”

Pietro hadn’t seen himself yet as far as you knew that faces or thinking about faces brought up memories. It was just a matter of unveiling the memories. He seemed to ponder your suggestion for a moment before grabbing the pen and paper. He set them down in his lap, and he tried to decide which hand to grab the pen with. He alternated between the two, before he seemed to be more comfortable with the right.

He had to adjust the pen in his hold several times as he tried to find a proper way to grip it but he soon settled on an awkward grip. He stared down at the bank paper for a long time, and you could hear him begin to grind his teeth. His face muscles contorted and he began tapping the closed pen against the paper. Finally, he let out a long groan.

“I don’t know what I look like.”

That much was expected. You gave him a small, soothing smile. “Try to feel your features. Like your hair, face, and nose. That’s the part that you can’t see, after all.”

He gave a slow nod and reached up his left hand to begin playing with his hair. It felt along the tips initially, slowly moving toward the scalp as he tried to understand its shape. His hand moved from his hair to the side of his face, where he briefly jerked back as his fingertips traced the stubble. He tentatively set his hand back down, and began to follow his jawline. He traced his chin, nose, and over his eyes, before settling back into his hair. He sat in silence for a little while, and you soon began to hear the pen scribble away.

He seemed to take his time, trying to sketch out everything that he could feel. He glanced down at his own body, which was still clad in the tight suit. He gave a small frown, but began to draw this as well. You needed to see about getting him proper clothes, or at least ones that wouldn’t fly off if he decided to run. You two probably sat there for ten minutes until you heard the click of the pen. You spared a glance at the drawing, and you felt a smile tug at your lips.

Pietro offered a sad laugh. “I was hoping I was some sort of artist. I guess that’s not the case.”

You gave a small chuckle and took the drawing from his hand. While many of the features were off, it still slightly looked like him. The hair was too long, the nose too big, the shoulders too broad, but it was still him. You motioned it to him. “Does this remind you of anything?”

He gave a small tilt of his head, his unruly hair following the motion. He tapped on the body. “The suit does. It’s not something happy, but I know something’s there.”

“It’s a start,” you offered, “Here, let’s go to the bathroom. They have a mirror. You can see what you actually look like, and hopefully you might remember something else.”

He chuckled slightly. “I really hope I don’t look like _that_.”

Your smile broadened and you led him toward the adjoining bathroom, opening the door and allowing him inside. His eyes immediately trailed to the mirror, and he froze in his tracks. He could only look at himself, eyes flicking from his face to his body and back to his face. He moved slowly toward the mirror, placing one hand on the counter to support himself as he leaned forward. His hand reached up to touch the mirror, and when it didn’t react in whatever way he expected it to, he began to trace along the mirror. He seemed to focus on his eyes the most, seeming to be mesmerized with the blue of them.

He slowly turned to you, as if it pained him to turn away from the mirror. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “This is what I look like?”

You gave a small nod before moving to step out the door. You’d leave him with his new revelation for now, considering he probably needed time to process the whole thing. It was somewhat remarkable seeing his reaction, however. He didn’t even recognize himself, now that he had to chance to look. You sat down on the edge of your bed, pulling out your phone and checking your emails.

A little bit of time passed before Pietro returned from the bathroom, a look of wonder on his face. You watched as he walked around the perimeter of the room, silent with the smallest of smiles on his face.

“Do you remember anything now?”

It took him a while to register that you even spoke, and he turned to you with a confused look. He cocked an eyebrow at you, before seeming to remember what the original intention of going into the bathroom had been. He gave a tiny nod.

“Something’s there. Like an itch. Don’t know what.”

You asked him to come sit down next to you, and after he does, you begin to speak. “Does anything really jump out at you? It doesn’t even have to an actual memory. Maybe things like objects or emotions that you remember.”

He sat back on his hands, staring at the gray wall ahead of him as he shuffled through the bare shelf of his memories. He made a small sound, causing you to squint at him. “Stone. Lots of it. Stone walls, and a lot of darkness. There isn’t much.”

You hum softly. From what you’d heard from the whole incident up in Sokovia, H.Y.D.R.A. had built a base in one of its old castles. No doubt he’d resided there for quite some time, so it wasn’t a surprise that that was one of his most prominent memories.

“Red,” he murmured, “I remember red, too. But it seems good, and very familiar.”

And there was Wanda, another memory that he should easily remember. You smile and reach out to pat his shoulder, but he cringes away from your touch. You pause for a second, before slowly letting your hand drop away from him. He was still very unsure of everything that was happening around him, so you shouldn’t have even attempted to touch him. You hoped that hadn’t set you back.

However, he seemed to quickly straighten himself out and couch and you felt your muscles relax. He was at least taking everything in strides. He turned his blue eyes to you, eyebrows knitting together. “So, what does it mean?”

You watched him for a while, his eyes trained on yours. You offered a small shrug, and you saw his jaw slightly tighten. “It’s your home and it’s your sister. I think you need to find out what they mean for yourself.”

“How am I supposed to find out things if I don’t even know what they are?”

You gave a small shake of your head. “I don’t know. I just imagine it’d be more beneficial for you.”

He growled in his throat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His leg began to bounce once again, and one hand began to play with the ends of his hair. You wanted to help him, but even you didn’t know that much about them. If you started trying to explain things to him, he’d just have more and more questions. You couldn’t answer everything, and no doubt he’d just get frustrated.

“Can I see her?”

You gave a surprised hum, having to try and think about what he said. When he noticed your confused look, he elaborated,

“My sister. Can I see her?”

You felt yourself wince at his question and your hand rubs the back of your neck. You offer a shake of your head, and before he can open his mouth to complain, you explain, “It just wouldn’t be the wisest right now.”

“Why?” he questions, tone harsh and low, “She’s my _sister_.”

“I know, but it’s best if neither of you see each other until we… figure you out.”

He gave a huff. “What’s there to figure out? I died, and now I’m alive. That’s it.”

“We need to know _how_ you came back.”

It was his turn to be confused. His eyebrows came together in a furrow, and his mouth fell open into a small sneer. “What do you mean?”

Perhaps it was better for you to not talk to him at all, considering he was asking lots of questions and it was really beginning to stress you out. You groaned and let your hand fall down to your side with a slap.

“We had you in that chamber for a month with absolutely no change and this morning something happened. We’ve been doing the same thing the whole time, so I don’t know what happened. That’s why we can’t have you doing anything on your own, in case something happens to you. Because maybe this whole thing is only temporary.”

His eyes suddenly seemed very sad, and he seemed to withdraw from you. The idea that he might not be breathing soon because he was only alive for a test run shocked him. His eyes trailed down to his lap, and he gave a soft hum of understanding.

“I promise you can see her soon, though. Just not yet. If she were to lose you again… I’m sure you understand.”

He hummed again, and you moved to stand. You needed to get some things done, and then hopefully get some sleep. After all, you’d been abruptly woken up from a very short nap, and you were beginning to feel very drowsy. No doubt Pietro was exhausted too from the rush of everything. You moved toward the door and removed a key from your pocket. A cry of protest came from behind you.

“What’re you doing?”

“Leaving,” you responded, “I have to lock the door.”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, and with a small breeze, he was standing in front of you. “No one said anything about locking me in here.”

“Protocol. I have to. You won’t be left in here by yourself for long.”

His eyes darted all over your face, and you could see fear in his body language. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, to the point where they were turning white.

“This room is too small,” he hurried out, “I can’t be locked in.”

You frowned in sympathy, but you still had to follow orders. Your hand reached for the handle, and you felt his grasp your forearm. He lightly tugged you away from the door, causing you to briefly stumble

“Please don’t.”

He was absolutely terrified of being locked away, that much you could tell. Perhaps it was his body reacting to the idea of being stuck in a small chamber again, or maybe it was some past memory scratching at his brain. You could feel his nails digging into your skin, trying to emphasize his terror.

“Pietro, you’re hurting me.”

His grip slackened, but he didn’t let go of you. His breath came out in short sighs, and his face was paling. He stared at you to the point where you felt as if he’d burn a hole right through you. You groaned in defeat, offering a small look toward the door.

“If I leave the door open, you can’t leave. I’ll get in even more trouble, and then I will have to lock the door. You have to promise that you won’t leave.”

His head nodded rapidly, and you briefly wondered if he’d even heard you.  Regardless, his hand fell away from you and his body seemed to relax. You opened the door and pushed it all the way to the wall before stepping through the frame. Pietro shakily wandered back to his bed and plopped down, most likely to calm himself down.

Once you were certain he wouldn’t try to leave you headed down the hall, making your way for the main stairs. You needed to check if Grace had arrived yet, and if she had you needed to start moving everything up to your room. You weren’t particularly happy about the whole situation, but you supposed that it could be worse. You could have had to live in the lab with Pietro.

You stepped out into the main room, and you soon found yourself being nearly thrown to the ground by how fast something had run into you. Your hands flailed until you gripped a couch, and you ended up falling over the side. You fell down with a huff, and you raised your head to look at what the hell had hit you.

Your arms were suddenly held down by some force, and when you glanced down, you noticed red tendrils had surrounded them. You were unable to move them, and you gave a small hiss of frustration. Wanda stepped toward you, eyes an angry red as she stared down at you.

“Don’t keep him from me. Where is he?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a little while. I didn't even get the chance to begin writing it until yesterday!
> 
> Mixes listened to while writing this (all on 8tracks):  
> Go Out with a Sonic Boom by Blood and Ice Cream  
> He Didn't See It Coming by Lenaboo_69  
> ʜᴇ·s ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪs sᴏʀʀᴏᴡs by quickslver


	4. Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda is attacking you in desperation, and when Pietro comes along to cease the conflict, he causes a whole new problem on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, there is a moment that is pretty graphic and involves lots of blood. If it's triggering for you, let me know and I can send you a toned down version of the chapter so you don't miss out on anything.

Alright, this wasn’t exactly the ideal situation in the least. Wanda seemed very upset at the moment, which you should have expected. You haven’t contacted her (granted, you’d been told not to) and she’d somehow figured out of Pietro’s resurrection. How, you didn’t know, but it left you in a sore spot. You briefly struggled against your bonds, but another one shot out and wrapped around your stomach, effectively pinning you down.

Her lips pulled up into a snarl and she stepped forward, raising her hands. You followed them, now dangling a few good inches above the ground. You could feel the magic as it surrounded you, and it was hot. Not hot enough to burn, but it was definitely uncomfortable. You wiggled around a bit, but it seemed to be futile.

“Wanda,” you began, “Just put me down-“

“ _No_.” Her words were harsh. You felt as if the tendrils were constricting, but they didn’t move in the least. You gave a small grunt, the one around your stomach causing a considerable amount of pain. You gave a small cough, trying to find some sort of relief.

“I want to see him,” her voice was very small for this situation, and it sounded sad. You gave her a pleading look, but she merely hardened her face. She raised you up a bit higher, and her head followed your struggling body. “I thought I could trust you.”

“You can!” you cried out, not appreciating how she seemed to be lifting you higher and higher. The main room had a high ceiling, and a quick look above you let you realize that if you had been unbound, you could probably touch it with your fingertips. Wanda merely glared up at you.

“You wouldn’t keep him from me if you were any good.”

You groaned, reeling through your mind as you tried to find your way to talk out of this situation. She was obviously not in the right mindset right now, and she was beginning to be dangerous. You still couldn’t go back on your word, however, and thus you couldn’t let her see Pietro.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Suddenly, there was no longer any sort of pressure on you, and there was a breeze. It took only a second or two, but the fall seemed long and painful. You could only let out a light gasp before you crashed into the ground on your side. Your arm flared in pain, and you pushed yourself up with your good one. You glared at her heavily, and she merely sneered back.

“Then I’ll find him myself.”

She sharply turned on her heel, and you struggled to move fast enough. Your hand latched onto her heel, and her head whipped around. She shook her leg, but you held on tight, to the point where your nails were digging into her leg.

“Get _off_ ,” she hissed, lashing out her leg and hitting you square in the nose. You gave a heavy grunt and tugged her leg harshly. She cried out as she fell forward, hands flying out in order to catch herself. You moved into a sitting position and rubbed your nose, and when your hand didn’t come back bloody, you gave a sigh of relief.

And then you were flying.

You went well over the bar and instead into the glass rack behind it. They fell down with several crashes, and you quickly crawled to your feet in order to avoid having glass break on your body. As you peeked over the bar, you had to dodge a red ball of light. You jerked your head to the side and it slammed behind you, causing more glasses to burst. Shielding yourself from the glass, you scrambled around for cover. Wanda shot several more balls toward you, and you finally ducked behind a large, plush chair.

You had no weapons on your person in the least, so you would have to work with your hands and feet. Wanda was easily keeping you at bay, however, and a hole was soon visible through the center of the chair. While the chair had taken most of the blow, you were still sprayed with the leftover magic, and you hissed as it burned your skin. You jumped out from behind the chair before she could target you again, and instead focused on trying to move closer to her.

She made sure to keep striking at you, but you were ducking behind various items of furniture. This made her frustrated, and in her anger, her accuracy began to lessen. This gave you a chance to get closer, and once you felt like you had a chance, you dove for her. You tackled her around her midsection, forcing her down to the ground. A frenzied shot went toward the ceiling, and you felt the debris rain down on the two of you.

You wrestled to pin her down, preferably in a way to where her hands wouldn’t be anywhere near you. You got hold of her wrists and tried to pin them to her sides, but she thrashed violently beneath you. She was screaming and bore a wild look in her eyes, and she wasn’t helping you in the least. She soon landed a well-planted knee into your gut, causing you to crumple. She used this moment to shove you off of her and scramble to her feet.

She was poised above you, breathing heavily as she held her hands ahead of her. They began to glow red, and you raised an arm above you. As if that would do anything. This certainly hadn’t been the way you expected to go, but there was no avoiding it now. You locked eyes with her, daring her to toss her magic your way. You’d go down prideful, at least.

She gave a snarl, and the magic swelled.

* * *

 Pietro had begun to pace around his room when he heard the first crash of glass. He paused in his steps and perked up, allowing his head to turn toward the open door. He narrowed his eyes and slowly stepped toward it, grasping the doorway and peering outside. The noise had sounded far away, but it didn't hurt to check the hallway. He stood there for several moments, but once he felt satisfied, he began to pull back. There was a large boom, and it was enough to make him flinch.

He didn't look out into the hall, but sucked his lip underneath his teeth. He had been specifically instructed to stay in here, but the noises were worrying. Hadn't (Y/N) headed downstairs. While he still didn't particularly care for her, she was his only means of getting even remotely close to remembering anything about himself. If she was injured in some sort of way, it could inhibit his memory recovery. Plus, he was rather fast, as he'd recently learned. Surely it couldn't hurt to run down there and be back up here in a matter of seconds.

Feeling confident in his abilities and his ability to control them, he soon darted down the left side of the hallway. He wasn't sure of exactly how to get to the source of the noise, but it surely couldn't be too hard. When Pietro found a set of stairs leading up near the end of the hallway, he flipped back around and started running right. The sounds were definitely coming from downstairs, and he was certain he had also begun to hear yelling. He spotted a set of stairs going down and took them.

Relieved that he hadn't somehow stumbled down the steps at this sped, he darted down another hallway, found more stairs, and continued on. Luckily, he hadn't been too far up, and when he reached the source of the noises, he slowed down considerably. He peeked around the edge, and his jaw tightened at the scene before him.

A woman stood over (Y/N) and her hands appeared to be glowing red. When he looked at the woman, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head that made him wince, but he ignored it. It was likely pains from his recovery. When the woman's hands glowed a bit more, Pietro found himself launching toward her. He shouldered her aside from (Y/N) and grasped her wrists, forcing to the side in order to avoid whatever the hell they were doing.

* * *

When the pain didn't come and you heard Wanda grunt, you peeled open your eyes. Wanda was gone in the blink of an eye, and when you whipped your head, she was several feet away from you. It took you several moments to process what was in front of you, but when you did, your heart sank and you began to feel nauseous.

Pietro was grappling with Wanda, who seemed to be failing to recognize her attacker. She practically screamed at him as she tried to wrench her wrists away from him, but he kept a firm hold on them. She tried to bring up a leg to kick him, but he merely stepped away, leaning into her instead. Wanda looked at him wildly, and it was in this moment that she recognized him. Her whole body visibly slackened, and Pietro took this moment to shove her away from him.

She caught herself before she fell over, but she did not take her eyes off him. Pietro merely glared at him, shoulders broad and feet wide apart. He leaned forward in a fighting stance in case she decided to come at him again. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she stared at him, eyes searching his face quickly. She seemed to expect him to disappear in any moment, and when he didn't, she took short steps toward him.

"Pietro," she murmured, reaching her hand for him. He flinched, whether at his name or her hand, you couldn't be sure, and his hand lashed out. It gripped her forearm, holding her steady. She didn't react, and instead tears began to fill her eyes. Her other arm went for him, and he did the same. He kept her at bay, blue eyes glaring right through her as he bared his teeth.

She failed to notice his aggression, and she just gave a small shake of her head. "Pietro," she cried out, voice becoming high-pitched and frail. Tears began to spill down her cheeks, staining her pale skin. She tried to loosen her hands from his grip, but he held on tightly. Pietro briefly turned to glance at you, as if looking for some sort of explanation. You slowly rose to your feet, but did not advance upon either of them.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but Pietro hissed through his teeth. "Stop."

She looked briefly hurt, but she seemed to shove that away quickly. Before she should move again, he shoved her away once more, and this time she collapsed. She brought herself into a sitting position and gave Pietro a bewildered look. He shook his head harshly, taking a few steps away from her.

"I don't know you."

The pain now crossed her face, and you could hear sobs begin to be wrenched from her. He'd been dead, died without even saying goodbye, and now he was acting as if he hardly knew her. A cry escaped her lips, and she turned to look at you. Her makeup had begun to run with her tears. The black darkened the streams running down her face, and the smudges became prominent underneath her eyes.

"What-" Another choked sob. "What did you do?"

Your features hardened and you felt your heart tighten. You felt sympathetic for her, because she was his family. Losing one of your own would destroy you, and if they pushed you away if they came back, you weren't sure how you'd react. You sucked in a deep breath.

"He doesn't remember anything," you said simply, and you internally cursed yourself. You had been far too blunt.

Wanda whipped her head toward Pietro, who refused to meet her gaze. He looked at the wall to his right side, and his fists clenched further at his sides. Wanda shook her head violently.

"Pietro," she wailed, "I'm your  _sister_."

Pietro spared a glance at her, and his body seemed to tense further. He let out a harsh breath before allowing his gaze to drop to the ground. He gave a single shake of his head.

"I don't know you."

Wanda's sobs grew louder, and she crumpled in on herself. She burrowed her face in her hands and the sobs were muffled, but she made no attempt to stop them. You began stepping toward her, trying to find some way of comforting her. She may have attacked you earlier, but she had truly meant no harm. You squatted down and placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. She gave a pained moan, beginning to rock back and forth. Pietro did not step forward.

"I'm working with him, Wanda," you tried to offer, "He'll remember you soon--he'll remember everything."

She shook her head, hands moving with her. Beneath them, you heard a muffled, "He's gone."

You sighed heavily, turning to look at Pietro. He looked as if he felt awkward, because he now seemed very small. He drew in on himself and clasped his hands together in front of him. He refused to meet your gaze, instead always finding something else to look at. You resigned yourself to looking back at Wanda, who clearly wasn't going to stop crying anytime soon.

You placed your hand back on her shoulder, and she did not force it off this time. You began to rub small circles, trying to give her some comfort, some semblance of humanity. He had now died a second time to her, considering he failed to even recognize her. She no longer had a brother in front of her, but instead a strange man who even she didn't know. He may look like her dead brother, but he was not him. She knew how he held himself, how he spoke, how he laughed. This man was not her brother.

You were both brought from your thoughts when you heard a deep, racking cough. You turned toward Pietro, and you noticed he was covering his mouth as his chest convulsed. It seemed like a coughing fit for a moment, but when he pulled his hand away, his lips were a dark red, and blood dripped from his hand. He gave another cough, and blood sprayed forward from his mouth, staining the ground ahead of him.

You scrambled up, and Wanda gave a piercing cry behind you. You rushed forward to him, trying to figure out exactly what to do. You may of had medical expertise, but it wasn't as if people coughed up blood every day. He leaned forward now, bracing his hands on his knees as he began to dry heave. Blood dripped from his mouth, pooling up on the floor. He gave a heavy retch, and in a gush, blood rushed out, splattering on both of your shoes. He brought up his face to look at you, eyes filled with terror. His nostrils had begun to bleed as well, and he was soon stumbling backward and falling to the ground.

You didn't know what to do. You knelt down next to him, staring on in horror as he spluttered on his back, blood hitting his cheeks and eyes. You quickly moved to turn him on his side, so he didn't choke, and you could hear Wanda rushing over. She came to his other side, reaching to grab his bloody hand and holding it close to her. Tears spilled onto his suit, and her hands trembled as she harshly gripped his hand.

"No, no, no," she sobbed, shaking his hand, "Please stop, Pietro. Please."

She only received a reply of him vomiting again, the blood trailing down a bloody path toward your legs. His blue eyes met yours and he tried to rasp something, but it came out as a gurgle. You shook your head, instead hurrying up to run for the bar nearby. Your search was quick, and you returned with a cloth. You were glad that your hands did not shake as you tried to wipe the blood from his face, for you feared that would only make him panic. His body shook as he coughed, and his eyes squeezed shut.

You set the bloody cloth down by his side and moved to reach in your pocket, pulling out your phone. Your red fingers slipped across the screen, but you nonetheless managed to dial Helen Cho's number. Maybe she would have some idea of what to do. You held the phone to your ear, raising up the cloth again in order to wipe away the fresh blood he had coughed up. The phone seemed to ring forever before the woman's voice came in crisp across the phone.

"What is it Agent (Y/N)?"

"It's Maximoff," you pleaded, your voice higher than you would have liked it, "He's vomiting blood."

The line was silent for a moment, before she cooly responded, "I'm on my way."

The line went dead before you could say anything else, and you set the phone down into your lap a little harsher than necessary. Pietro rasped again, and you allowed yourself to openly stare at him. He coughed again, and his free hand reached like a claw toward you. He grasped at your shirt, tugging you forward as he stared straight at you. Suddenly, his pupils dilated, to the point where you could hardly see his irises, and he suddenly went still. Wanda screamed next to you.

You reached for his shoulder, shaking him and trying to get some sort of reaction from him. Wanda rocked back and forth with his hand clasped in both of her own, and she muttered strings of words beneath her breath. Perhaps a prayer, perhaps a will to bring him back. You felt your eyes briefly burn, but soon Pietro was groaning below you. When you looked back down at you, he was giving you a look of surprise above anything else.

"Stop," he simply said, acknowledging your hand. You let go of him immediately, and he slowly began to move in a sitting position. His free hand reached up to rub at his stubbly chin, and he pulled it away to gaze at the blood. He looked a little sick as he saw it, so he quickly placed it back down. He didn't have much more time to ponder over what had happened because Wanda was tackling him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

Pietro grunted and leaned back on his hands, unable to do much more. He was no doubt feeling weak after blood loss, and you could only hope that Helen would arrive soon before he went back to his grave. You allowed your gaze to turn to the ground, looking at the blood that had pooled around. You had no idea what had occurred to him, and it was likely that it was a side effect of his resurrection. You wiped your hands on your pants and sighed. Perhaps this would be much harder than you thought.

Wanda cried out next to you, and you realized that Pietro had fallen back on the ground, eyes closed. She seemed rather worried, but you offered a shake of your head. "He's just passed out. He's fine."

Her eyes searched your face for a moment, as if she was searching for a lie. When you offered none, she leaned back on her heels, grabbing Pietro's hand once more. She rubbed her thumbs into the maroon palm, green eyes sad. You felt your face fall down, and you averted your gaze from her. You hoped this whole situation hadn't set her too far back in her recovery. Perhaps seeing Pietro would actually improve her state over the long run.

A beeping sound signaled the arrival of an elevator, and when you looked over, Helen Cho was running toward you. Two other agents, whom you recognized from the project, followed after her, but still kept a fair distance behind. Helen took only one look at Pietro before allowing her black eyes to bore into you.

"Let's move him back down to the lab. He'll need to be on an IV, and I want to check if he's injured anything else."

You nodded and allowed yourself to stand, but Wanda seemed less than inclined to move from her brother. You walked over to her and placed both hands on her shoulders, giving her a small shake. "They know what they're doing. He'll be in good hands."

You pried her hands from his own and helped pull her up. She leaned on you for several moments, looking weak and paler than normal. Sparing one glance at Pietro, who was being checked on by one of the agents, you led Wanda toward the stairs. You both needed to clean up for now, and worry about what was happening later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After you dropped her off in her room, you headed to your own temporary one. You shut the door behind you and headed for the bathroom. A look in the mirror showed just how bloody your clothes and hands had gotten, and you quickly stripped off your clothes. You didn't exactly have any means to change until Grace got back, but it was better to be out of bloody clothes than in them. You flipped on the shower and briefly washed your hands underneath the cold stream.

You headed back toward the counter, leaning on it as you stared into the mirror. What had happened to Pietro? He hadn't seemed anemic, and he certainly hadn't been nauseous prior to the incident. This didn't bode well for him in the least, and you let out an angry sigh as you leaned forward. He needed time to recover, and vomiting blood wasn't going to help him.

You coursed a wet hand back through your hair and took the time to really look at yourself. This whole thing had only just begun, and you already looked exhausted. Your eyes were droopy and you felt exhausted and sore. You needed to take time to simply evaluate everything and fix what was wrong. Then everything would be back to normal and you could move back into your home.

You slipped in the shower and began to scrub at your skin, washing off any last remnants of blood. Hopefully this incident was the last of the kind, but if you knew anything about the future, that was unlikely. Lucky for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had to really force myself to write this chapter. I haven't felt very inspired, and between meeting up with friends and getting bit by a dog, I've been busy. Well, not THAT busy. I've been exceptionally lazy, too I don't know how often I'll be updating, but I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Also, I lost half of the chapter once, and a third of it a second time because I didn't save properly. That also contributed to my lack of writing.
> 
> Mixes listened to while writing (all on 8tracks):  
> What You Truly Fear by iwouldhavebeendrake01  
> it's my job. by thislovesickmelody  
> and i will run with the wolves; a wanda maximoff mix by mieromi

**Author's Note:**

> [1] Where am I?
> 
> I hope that Romanian is accurate. It better be.
> 
> Thanks for checking out this work, considering it's my first one on this site!
> 
> Mixes listened to while writing this (all on 8tracks):  
> Walk it off. by BreadandButterfly  
> No Longer 12 Minutes Older by Fiona-Mona  
> he's fast-a pietro maxmimoff fanmix by eraised


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